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Globally, about one billion people a day commute to and from the
cities. Is that not nomadic behavior? That is, actually,
hyper-nomadic behavior,
since man in his natural condition would travel at about two
miles per hour through a continually changing visual panorama.
To stay in one place too long becomes too uncomfortable for any
person. This feeling of going stir crazy is actually the
nomadic instinct; the driving force behind all creation,
causing people to go somwhere and to do something.
This helps to explain why American people move into new homes as many times in their lives as they do. This explains why going to prison is punishment; because it is antinomadic. This explains why "students change classes, when it would be easier for them to stay in one room and change teachers." (Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance). We all need a new view every so many hours, days, or years, and when we get it we feel good. The homeless cannot be contained to stare at a wall in a shelter, for they are acquainted with nomadic liberty. Each time we turn our head, it is a new view. Existence is nomadic. Walking from one side of a room to the other is nomadic. Every morning at a quarter to seven two hundred million pills slide down a throat. Rush past the children to keep them a stranger, gulp the last coffee, then hands on the door. Back out the driveway, then warm up the iron, feel the cold chill of death coming near. Their ties are their weapons, their suits are their armor. Sick lies in their heads to keep them alive. Hit the expressway, grind on the pavement. Dead bodies in cars mean nothing to them. Aim for the city, go for the money, sick fuel burning zombies in sick misery. File in traffic assigned to a place amongst no one. Who are these people? Who could they be? Bumper to bumper hate on the highway, hearts pounding in their chests, screaming tires, honking horns, sea of gasoline. Each of them angry for their own reasons. Nobody knows each other. The hunt is for the paycheck, like arrows on target. Pain in their heads, knots in their sides, fresh meat wrapped in tin, blood in their eyes. [PREVIOUS] [NEXT] |